


Pity The Living

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Haleth is gone and Caranthir has come to say his last farewell.
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë/Haleth of the Haladin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Pity The Living

The Haladin had buried their great chieftainess in a tomb beneath a hill, it’s rolling grasses and blooming wild flowers growing above her as she laid within the ground, trapped in eternal sleep.

The funeral party had long gone, returning to their homes to grieve the Lady in private, and the heavens grew dark above the land to soon let go their own sorrows.

It was a dark day, a cursed day, that the cloaked eldar came riding silently into the realm of the House of Haleth. 

A party of four there were, led by a tall fair skinned elf wrapped in clothes of red. 

A silver star was pinned upon his chest, the mark of the House of Feanor.

“My Lord,” one guard cautioned Caranthir as he dismounted, giving the reigns of his steed over to another at his side. “We should not dwell in the shadows, my Lord. The men will think us robbers.”

Caranthir answered not, pulling his hood back as a roar of thunder crashed above the heads of his party.

“Stay,” He commanded them all. “I’ll pay my respects to the Lady alone.”

“But my Lord...” the same guard spoke up again.

“I said I’ll go alone!” Caranthir snapped, swallowing hard as he turned his back to his companions.

The guards obeyed, staying behind with the horses and keeping a close watch on the village nearby.

Caranthir crossed the rolling field from the edges of the forest to the tomb beneath the hill, and a flash of lightning lit the words engraved upon its door of stone.

Haleth, Daughter of Haldad, Mother of the Haladin

The thunder bashed at Caranthir’s ears as he gently touched the cold stone, running his fingers over each letter carved into the rock. 

“My dear Lady...” He lamented as the rain finally began to pour from the heavy clouds above. “You’ve left more behind in this world than you know.”

The raindrops hid the tears slipping down the noldor’s face, and the cracks of thunder concealed the sound of his sobs from any that might have been listening.

His men watched on from the cover of the trees as their master sank to his knees in grief before the mound, but they did not glimpse the white rose that Feanor’s son pulled from under his cloak.

“Peace to you, my dear,” Caranthir whispered, carefully placing the fair flower before the door of Haleth’s tomb. “Wherever you may be.”

He staid a few moments more before pulling his hood up over his face and retreating back to the forest where his guards awaited.

“My Lord?” One of them inquired gently as Caranthir swung up onto his horse again. 

Once more, he answered not, and quickly turned his mount back toward Thargelion, leaving the only being who had ever held his heart behind him.


End file.
